


Safe

by DataSupremacy



Series: Tumblr Requests: NSFW [5]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Bullying, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 07:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DataSupremacy/pseuds/DataSupremacy
Summary: Data comforts the reader after a rough day at work.
Relationships: Data (Star Trek)/Reader
Series: Tumblr Requests: NSFW [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206905
Kudos: 12





	Safe

☆☆☆

You hardly hear Data’s greeting as you breeze through the door to your shared quarters and make a beeline for the couch, snagging up the decorative cushion that Spot is _not_ sleeping on and bringing it up to your face, pressing it tightly over your mouth to muffle the scream of frustration that had been building up in your chest from the moment that you had started your shift with that new and _unbearable_ Science Officer who had transferred just a week ago. Rage is metallic on your tongue and the blood pounding in your ears drowns out everything but your own misery as you scream a second time and then drop down onto the couch, hugging the cushion to your chest and sniffling.

Data regards you calmly. “I assume that you were unsuccessful in encouraging Commander Carmichael to promote a more peaceable work environment. Am I correct in this hypothesis?”

“Data, he made two Ensigns cry today. He screamed at Jimenez for twenty minutes for mislabeling one sample of dirt taken from a planet that we already have a decades worth of records from and then threatened to demote Rodney when he took up for her. And then he said that the way that I record our findings was inadequate and made me waste time reentering information, just to blow up at me for being behind on schedule afterward. I can’t believe I have to put up with him for six more weeks until Commander Greene comes back from leave. I’ve gotten warmer feelings from nightmares about being sucked out into space.”

“Perhaps you should bring these concerns to Commander Riker or Captain Picard,” the corner of Data’s mouth quirks into a little frown as he approaches you and sits stiffly on the seat beside you, awkwardly patting your arm in a way that is supposed convey comfort. “I know that we have made an agreement that I will not file reports based on complaints you make to me within our quarters, but I do not believe that your elevated stress levels are conducive to your overall well-being and I must remind you that it is my duty as your romantic partner to ensure that you do not experience harm. Commander Carmichael has injured you, emotionally, three times this week.”

“I just don’t see what good it would do,” you sigh and lean against to rest your cheek on his shoulder. “Carmichael’s been kind of enough to remind us, repeatedly, that he’s the only other person besides Greene with the expertise we need to finish this mission. We can’t afford to wait for Greene to come back and there’s no one else that Captain Picard can bring on board. We’re stuck with him and his god complex until this is over and that means that making a report about him will only make him even harder to deal with. If this is what he’s liked with his ego fully intact, I don’t think I want to see what it’d look like if he felt like we were challenging his authority.”

“You believe that he would retaliate with the intent to cause more harm?”

“Of course he would.”

Data falls silent, presumably to process this new information about human nature. Between the kindness etched into his own code and the way that he idolizes what it is to be human, you know it takes him by surprise when someone who has the “gift” of humanity acts without the moral code that Data assumes must be part of the experience of being mortal. You don’t say anything else on the subject, just letting him incorporate this second-hand experience into his neural network as a frame of reference for later.

“…I will ask Captain Picard to allow me to assist you with the research,” he says, suddenly, taking you by surprise.

“Um, that’s sweet of you Data… but I don’t think we’re really doing anything wrong. He’s just nitpicking. And even your technical perfection could fall short in his eyes.”

“That is possible,” Data agrees. You can’t see his face when you’re curled up against his side like this, but it’s too comforting to be near him to adjust yourself just yet and try to guess what he’s thinking by his expression alone. “However, I have just downloaded and evaluated an article detailing how this behaviour manifests within humans and it is widely accepted that these conditions are only likely in the event of the person in question being surrounded by people that they view as lesser than themselves. It is not likely that he will continue to promote a hostile environment if there is someone in the room who he perceives as capable of creating consequences for him. I am second in command of this ship, therefore it is reasonable to assume that he will have no choice but to defer to my authority. I believe that this will significantly decrease the stress that you are experiencing under his command.”

“That…” you turn your head so that you can press a kiss to his arm through the sleeve of his uniform. “…is incredibly sweet. But aren’t you needed on the Bridge?”

“I believe that they will have no problems functioning without me.”

“Well, the only flaw I see in your plan is how hard it’s going to be for me to focus on my work when you’re in the same room as me,” you murmur, grinning slyly as you finally look back up at him. “It might be a little hard for me to concentrate.”

“I will endeavor to keep you on task,” there’s a glimmer of something in his pale eyes when he says that. “Serving as a possible distraction is a small price to pay in order to ensure that you feel safe.”

The next teasing remark that you were prepared to shoot at him dies on your lips at the utter sincerity in his gaze and you feel a twinge in your chest. “Oh, Data… is that why you want to come and keep an eye on things? Because you think I’m afraid of him?”

“Are you not?”

You opened your mouth, prepared to insist that you weren’t… but then you closed it again, realizing that it might not be the full truth. Carmichael was aggravating, irritating, and rude. He made you frustrated, angry, and exhausted and you know that for sure. But are you afraid of him, too?

“…I don’t know,” you murmur, looking back down at the pillow that you’re still clutching to your chest. “I guess I was so focused on how angry he makes me that I didn’t notice if I was scared too. I didn’t realize that’s how it might look to you.”

“I have been recording changes in your behaviour for the past week, since you first vocalized a complaint about Commander Carmichael. You are withdrawn, hesitant to venture into public spaces that you used to enjoy going to, and have begun flinching if I do not first announcement my presence before coming near you,” Data’s frown deepens. “I do not wish for you to continue to feel that way.”

You toss the pillow aside and twist to face him so that you can wrap your arms around him, instead. “I love you too. And I appreciate that you want to take care of me.”

“It is not as simple as a want,” Data argues, softly. “I have difficulties expressing how differently I experience things… but you might say that this feeling is similar to a need. I cannot help that I must take steps to ensure you are happy. It is so deeply ingrained into my program, now, that I do not believe it could be overwritten or stopped. I do not like that someone is hurting you and I know that I must not allow it to continue. To do so would be intolerable.”

How do you answer something like that? For someone who insists that he can’t explain how his emotions work, you’re still moved beyond the ability to speak. You’re severely lacking in eloquence when you manage to rasp out, “Kiss me?”

It might not rival his speech but he seems to understand the intent just the same and he gently presses his lips to yours. What residual tension had still been in your shoulders melts away and your lips part with a sigh. His tongue delves between them, tasting you briefly before he pulls back.

“Please allow me to take care of you, now.”

How does he make it sound like you’ll be doing him a favour? The look in his eyes practically liquefies your organs. You can’t think of a single thing to say that would be worthy of that unspoken devotion, so you just nod.

Data doesn’t need more than that. He lifts you up into his arms with ease and carries you bridal style from the living room to the bedroom. His every movement is calculated, but not indifferent, as he sets you down onto the bed. You shift to be centered against the mattress while he quickly and neatly removes his shirt, folding it before he sets it aside. The shimmer of light from the lamp in the corner dances against his golden-blushed skin like borrowed starlight and you stare in wonder, drinking in your fill of the sight of him. You could see him like this every day until the end of forever and your heart would always flutter in your chest like it was the very first time. Your palms itch to help him undress… but you resist, letting him take solace in his own private part of this shared ritual before he returns to you, completely stripped of his uniform and running his gaze over you almost analytically.

When his gaze lingers on your lips like an indirect kiss, you can’t help but squirm. How can you feel him like a physical touch when he’s still standing a few feet away from you?

“Data…?” you whisper his name when he doesn’t try to come closer, an unspoken question underlying the single word.

“I keep a complete memory record of every moment that I experience,” Data finally takes a step closer, his eyes still scanning over every inch of you. “I can recall it all in complete detail. If we are ever separated, it is moments like these that I will want to reflect on to bring a sense of closeness when my neural pathways begin to recognize the loss of your sensory input.”

“I’m not even undressed yet,” you can’t help but tease, a shy but pleased smile curling your lips.

“No, you are not.” Data agrees, taking another step closer. And then another, so that his legs are pressed against the bed as he stands over you, his expression never changing all the while. “However, the anticipation of the moment that you will be is pleasant. May I begin to remove your clothing?”

“Please.”

Data isn’t as swift with removing your clothing as he is with his own. He takes his time, instead, slowly pulling your shirt up and over your head, pulling as it to ensure that there’s not even the slightest chance that the friction of fabric moving against your skin could cause some kind of abrasion. The faint chill in the air kisses your newly exposed skin, but it’s not the sudden cold that makes you shiver. No, it’s the way that he’s still looking at you as if you were a piece of art; it’s the way you can feel his attention like a ghostly caress, slipping over you like liquid molasses; hot and sweet.

Data sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed once he sets your shirt aside and runs both hands down either side of your body, from the top of your ribcage down to your hips and then back up again. “Are you cold?”

Not at all. “Mm. Come warm me up.”

“Soon,” he promises, turning his attention back to your half-dressed state.

He’s just as delicate with removing your trousers, unbuttoning them with care and then sliding his hands beneath you to grasp the hem where it kisses the small of your back. He pulls gently and the slide down your body, finally leaving you against the silk of the comforter in nothing but your panties. Somehow you feel more vulnerable that way than you would if you were just naked and you feel a blush creeping up your skin.

“Your external temperature is rising,” Data notes, as he slides his hands up your legs to your hips. His eyes travel the rest of the way up your body, following the path of the blush that’s overtaking you. “This is an indication of several state of emotions in humans. Which are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure, yet. Maybe a combination of a few…“

Data ducks his head down and begins to kiss a trail down between your breasts, to your navel, and then back up again.

"I will have to investigate this more thoroughly, then.”

He presses a firm kiss to your lips before moving back down your body, finally hooking his slim, pale fingers into the waistband of your panties.

He’s not as gentle with these. Maybe the Starfleet uniform is _sacred_ to him, but this last layer of clothing is just a fabric barrier and he pulls them down your legs and lets them fall to the floor. And when he strokes his thumb experimentally against you, pleasure shoots through like sparks from live wire.

“You seem to be enjoying this,” Data almost sounds pleased, a smile ghosting across his lips. “You’re already exhibiting signs of arousal.”

Only Data could speak so clinically and still get you so hot. “Can you blame me? No one’s ever touched me the way that you do.”

Data’s eyes flash up to yours. “And no one ever will.”

A tingle like static in a subspace transmission trembles up your body at the note of pure possession in his tone. His hands follow that shudder until his fingers find your wrists, encircling them like manacles and bringing them above your head.

“You will stay like this,” he says, quietly. “You will not move, no matter what it is that I do, until I direct otherwise. Do you understand?”

There goes your ability to speak, again. You lick at your lips and nod.

“No. You must say that you understand.”

Deep breath. “I - I understand.”

“If you become uncomfortable or overwhelmed, you must use our safeword. Say it now so that I know you remember it.”

Your voice is barely more than a sigh, but you know that he’ll hear. “Sherlock.”

“Good.”

Data’s hum of approval is the last sound you hear before he rises onto his hands and knees over you, capturing your mouth into an all-consuming kiss that drives every last, coherent thought from your head and leaves you with nothing but _him_. You’re dizzy with the scent of him, the feeling of his body hovering over yours, and the way that he toys with you, tastes you, and teases whimpers from the back of your throat. You curl your fingers against your palms, nails digging curved half-moon indents into your skin as you resist the urge to touch him.

It’s painful; almost _torture_ to not be allowed to feel that flawlessly smooth skin beneath your fingertips. You know that he does this for you, when he insists on ordering you to keep your hands away. That your touch and the stimuli that comes with it can overload his sensors and pull him off a decided course. But it’d almost be worth the consequences if you could just hold him to your body, now…

As if he senses your weakening resolve, Data suddenly pulls back, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your mouth and then leaving you panting as you try to catch your breath and he sits back.

“Do not look away from me,” he orders, moving back down away from you.

You’re so much colder without him hovering over you… but not for long, as he settles down between your legs.

“You will not climax without permission.”

That sounds like a promise, not an order. But before your clever comment can roll off your tongue, his tongue is tasting between your legs with the same enthusiasm and expertise that he had shown when he was kissing you.

You grab twin fistfuls of the sheets above your head, desperate to hold onto something as he laves his tongue against you and a wild little cry tears through your throat.

“Data!”

The sound of his name brings a split second’s hesitation before he seems to decide that you’re not protesting and he doubles down on his efforts, making it impossible for you to stay still. Your hips rock helplessly and when he presses one hand gently against your abdomen to keep you from arching your back, you’re left with nothing to do but to _writhe_ with pleasure. You can feel that sticky sweet tension of an imprinting orgasm building and for a moment, you’re content to enjoy that perfect climb to the precipice… before you remember what he said and wearily force yourself to fight against it. To wait until he said – to wait until you were _allowed_ …

“Data! Fuck!” you bite your bottom lip until the pain is sharper than the pleasure, adding a defined edge back to reality. “Data, please…!”

The ache of denying yourself an orgasm is nothing at all compared to the loss you feel when Data withdraws and leaves you soaked, sensitive to even the touch of the air, and _wanting_.

“Not yet,” Data says, his lips glistening with your arousal. He licks them clean with quick flicks of his tongue and you feel another painful jolt in your belly. “Not until I’m inside.”

He touches you, then, fingers taking over the work that his tongue had started until you’re crying out wordlessly, unable to even choke his name out. It’s then, and only then, that he strokes his slick fingers against his rigid cock, lubricating himself.

“Would you like me to fuck you?” The word is almost sinfully illicit coming from him.

But not enough so to distract you. Your answer is immediate.

“Yes!”

There is no hiding the satisfaction in his eyes, then. His body fits over yours perfectly, one hand pressed against the mattress and supporting his weight as the other guides his cock inside of you. Filling you, one inch at a time. You strain, trying to get more and _faster_ , but there’s no taking what he isn’t willing to give. Data moves at his own pace, unbearably slow and so GOOD, and you sob when he’s finally inside of you.

“Please, please, please, please…” you gasp out as soon as you can breathe.

His first act of mercy is not making you elaborate on your one-word plea. And the second is when he finally starts to move inside of you. He sets a leisurely pace, ensuring that you can feel every inch of him dragging in and out of you; every flex of his hips and slick drag of his skin against yours.

His mouth kisses and sucks at your breasts, your shoulder, your _throat_. Hot, open-mouthed sweetness with biting affection peppered between. It’s lucky that your uniform covers what it does or you might be mistaken for a trill, covered in his lovebites.

You’re weak for every touch, every kiss, every dragging point of friction. And just when you think it can’t get anymore intense, he begins to move faster, kissing hungry panting sounds from your mouth.

You’re close. So close that you can taste it, but you stubbornly bite your teeth down into his shoulder to fend it off. His skin blushes gold in the shape of your teeth, but he murmrs your name as gently as if you had given him a butterfly kiss instead of a bite.

“You may now achieve orgasm.”

It feels like breaking and being pieced back together all at once. Pulled apart at the seams and being stitched back together by the same hand.

When you fall back bonelessly against the bed, Data kisses your forehead.

***

“You are much more relaxed,” Data observes, sometime later.

You’re wrapped securely in his arms, his naked body molded to yours as to shield you from lurking tensions that are just waiting to ruin your enjoyment of the afterglow.

“Crazy how an orgasm can do that to a girl,” you murmur, grinning in the dark.

“I will find new reasons to alleviate your tensions when Commander Carmichael is no longer aboard the Enterprise.” Data promises.

You’d laugh if you weren’t so tired. As it is, you can hardly keep your eyes open.

“Mm. I’m positive you will.”

You try and fail to stifle a yawn.

“You are tired. Sleep now. You are safe.”

“Always am, with you.”

You finally let your eyes close, thinking that you must have done something right to have found yourself here, now.


End file.
